


Wolf Teeth

by ubercharge



Series: Moonlit Desert [1]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Boys Kissing, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossfaction, Fluff, M/M, Romance, moonlit desert tag, which im tagging because i use it one like two sites and three blogs. consistency!, which is apparently a tag thank you based ao3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 11:13:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2267613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ubercharge/pseuds/ubercharge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sniper can tell himself that “professionals have standards” all he wants, but that won’t stop him from having feelings that he can’t control. Especially feelings about a certain smug and smirking Frenchman he has killed and been killed by plenty of times. Still, if kisses can heal the wounds, then why not give it a go?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kukri

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to AO3, so expect some hiccups along my learning curve using the site!
> 
> I wrote Wolf Teeth with the full intention of focusing on Sniperspy. However, when I named the other characters and started writing about them as well, I decided to expand my purpose a bit. The focus of this fic is still Sniperspy, with bits and pieces of other relationships between the mercs. Think of this piece as a chapter or two in a larger story hopefully to come.
> 
> I will be reusing these characters (such as RED Sniper, who starts off as our resident no homo), and I have more planned for the future - everything from another pairing to an AU. I hope you are as excited as I am.
> 
> My followers on my writing and/or main blog will recognize the first chapter, a bit of an introduction, which I managed to incorporate here.
> 
> I tried a bit of a different approach from what I've read with this pairing. Admittedly, this did turn out quite self-indulgent. It's also unedited; I've only skimmed over the entirety of it once, haha.
> 
> Finally, a special thank you to my friend [Vincent](http://soundgoodizer.tumblr.com/), fellow Sniperspy shipper, who kept me company the whole week as I wrote this!
> 
> Cheers, readers.
> 
> Love, Kissen.

Hadn’t that been the way it always started?

Familiar smooth voice counting down, and the day would begin with a gong.

The RED Sniper had already found his way to a good spot to blow some heads off. He made himself comfortable in the little roost. It was among the choicier ones, where he had a small stash of food and even a blanket draped on the crates sharing the space with him.

He peered through his scope, checking out where the battle had begun. It would likely be a bit of time before the BLUs were able to push forward far enough to force him to move. Hopefully, his team would do their job well enough to prevent that from happening.

Sniper took a few shots with the rifle, and slowly grew bored as nothing progressed in an interesting manner. He got a bit more reckless, shooting to startle his prey before making a kill.  
The Sniper was rewarded by two clouds of fine red mist and a spray of bullets over his head. He dropped to the floor, cursing colourfully. There was no followup; his attacker had shifted their attention. Slowly, he returned to his spot.

The fray was advancing, slowly but surely. He took a shot at the BLU Scout’s head and missed, nicking his shoulder instead. The runner cursed, turning around and firing his scattergun.

The direction of the wind shifted, and it blew in a faint scent. Unmistakably, it was cigarette smoke. There was a faint _whoosh_ that he had heard many times in the past and dismissed to the wind or battle. It often resulted in his death. The sound of uncloaking.

With a growl, the Sniper whipped around and grabbed Spy’s arm, throwing him to the floor. The marksman pinned him down with a growl, one of his gloved hands wrapping around both of the other’s wrists as he sat down on Spy’s lap. He turned away, almost as if ashamed he’d been overpowered so quickly.

Sniper cocked his head slightly, and gave a half-smirk. It was beyond satisfying feeling his enemy squirm beneath him. He was more than used to waking up in respawn with a sore spot in his back and a scowl upon memory of his death. But now he had the advantage. It was likely that nobody else would get to witness his victory; a shame, really.

“Make it quick, bushman.” Spy muttered. Sniper rolled his eyes, and lightened the pressure on him as he reached for his kukri with his free hand.

He gave it a teasing little twirl in front of Spy’s face. Sniper leaned in. “Even polished it for ya. Been waitin’ ta run ya through with it.” he murmured.

Spy said nothing, though Sniper could register a flicker of surprise as he studied the man under him with curiosity. Spy would’ve almost been flattered, if his expression hadn’t been so predatory. And hungry.

He felt the cold press of the blade under his chin, tilting his head up. Spy was quiet when he finally spoke. “Razher intimate, don’t you zhink? It is not really zhe same as your usual kills. From so far away.”

Sniper’s face reddened. There was definitely an implication in the tone of the Spy’s voice. It was a low, tantalizing purr, a sound at stark contrast with his usual battlefield taunts and insults.

Neither of them said anything for a moment as they watched each other. Predator and prey. Cat and mouse. Sniper realized he was still hunched over close to Spy’s face, and backed up. Spy chuckled softly in amusement.

“Shut it, spook.” Sniper muttered, lifting his kukri and shoving it back down onto Spy’s neck with as much force as he could muster.

He got up, and the lingering heat and memory of the Spy’s body wouldn’t leave him. Nor would the sight of the Spy smiling, just the slightest bit. But it was a real smile, and even as Sniper settled back down on his chair and surveyed the battlefield through his scope, he couldn’t help but smile himself.


	2. Balisong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Sniper. You and your charming love of the wilderness.

It wasn’t rare for Sniper to stuff his things into his big backpack, and head out into the wilderness for the weekend, as he was in the process of doing. A bunch of the mercs had their own places to go, too. Especially when they happened to be fighting in an area not too far from actual civilization, even if that ‘civilization’ was just a small town like Teufort. He frowned at his pack, sure he was forgetting something, and headed out of his van to check the base.

Engineer was talking to Pyro as they barbecued dinner, still in their suit. Sniper wasn’t actually sure if he was looking at food, as the charred lump on the grill looked about as unappetizing as any charred lump was destined to look. Still, Pyro sometimes surprised the mercs with edible food. Tonight was not likely going to be one of those times.

Sniper hoped that Engie wasn’t planning on just watching. After all, he was one of the few who could cook a decent meal. The kind of meal that didn’t exhale worryingly high amounts of smoke into the evening sky. It made it hard to see the stars, was what Sniper thought.

He waved to the duo as he passed. Engie nodded in greeting. Pyro stabbed the lump on the grill with a stick, tearing a chunk off and waving back at Sniper. It was definitely some kind of meat, but it was more than just overcooked.

Sniper chuckled a bit before heading inside. He had his own room indoors, but he preferred the solitude in his camper van. It was far enough from base for him to feel like he had some actual privacy. His room indoors was nice, but too many times he’d been waken up by someone’s midnight antics. Along with the fact that both Engie and Medic had a tendency to be up at odd hours of the night, doing whatever they did as men of science and whatnot.

He was greeted again inside, this time from Demoman, who rarely left the base. Where he acquired all of his alcohol was a mystery. That particular subject had Scout rambling for hours once. The boy had insisted that Demoman had a stash on premises. A secret hideout filled to the brim with bottles. That they should all go look it, because it’s totally real, yup. Heavy had been there the whole time, and everyone probably thought he was listening patiently, until he smacked Scout upside the head.

In any case, secret stash or not, the Demoman was visibly inebriated when he waved to Sniper, bottle still in hand, and yelled at him, “Ye goin’ out this evenin’?” His words tripped over each other, but Sniper got the gist of it.

“Yeah. Goin’ campin’ for the weekend. Oi’ll be back on Monday, no need ta fret.” he replied with a nod.

The Demo laughed, probably for longer than necessary. Sniper bit back his own amusement. The Scotsman held his bottle up, as if about to say something important. He stared with an unfocused gaze right at Sniper, who raised his eyebrows expectantly in response. Demoman paused before giving a loud belch and flopping back onto the couch. Sniper decided to let him sleep.

The mercs’ designated bedrooms were upstairs. Sniper unlocked his. He kept his things relatively neat, seeing as there wasn’t much to keep indoors anyway. His essentials were already in his van, after all. The room was just convenient for spare storage. Clothes, bullets, spare weapons, and so on.

Sniper had left his thermos in his room. Or one of them, anyway. He was rather fond of the silver and blue one. It didn’t exactly merit a trip to base, but he figured he should straighten up his room while he was there.

He picked it up, and hoped it wasn’t filled with water or more questionable fluids. It wasn’t. Something was clattering inside, though. Sniper frowned. He was very sure that he didn’t leave anything in there, and sat down on the foot of his bed to inspect the container.

Was it a prank? It wasn’t uncommon for some of the mercs to leave explosives in inconvenient places. His room, though? Sniper didn’t have such a low opinion of them to think that they would’ve broken in. Especially not to find anything _incriminating_. It was more than obvious he hardly used the place. To break in was a bit too much for a silly prank, really.

A shiver ran down his spine as he twisted it open. And... nothing blew up in his face. He jiggled the thermos. Still nothing. Deeming it safe, the Sniper looked in. There was definitely an object inside, and he hoped it wasn’t about to result in a trip to respawn. There really was no being too wary in the base.

He tipped the thermos over with more care than necessary, and out came... two pieces of metal stuck together? No, not exactly. It was a knife. Folded up. With a few awkward flicks of his wrist, the Sniper released the blade from the hold of the dark grey handles. They met with a satisfying _click_ , revealing the pattern on them. Flowers. Intricately woven together. A very pretty engraving for a very pretty blade. Dark silver, polished. It had been taken good care of. Sure as the balisong had been used to kill, its owner was a Spy. But which one?

Sniper frowned. He wasn’t exactly familiar with the weapons either Spy used. He rarely worked or spoke with the Spy on his own team, and the one on the other side didn’t exactly show off his knives prior to sticking them in his victims’ backs.

It was unnerving to find it in his room. There was no good reason that he could think of for it to be there. In his thought, the thermos rolled off his lap and fell to the floor. A slip of paper slid out of its mouth. The Sniper gathered both items, and unfolded the paper. In small, neat handwriting and black ink, it read:

_If you are out this weekend, you must be careful._

_Find me. Lest I find you first._

_Bon soir._

That was it. The words hardly took up any space on the paper. Damn Spy had an entire piece of paper, and he used it to leave a... a threat? A warning? A promise of some kind of twisted hide-and-seek game?

Sniper sighed. He had no use for the knife, preferring his own hunting knives and other blades, and figured that if he ran into the Spy, whichever one it belonged to, he could at least return it. Of course, if it was the BLU Spy’s, he’d have to be prepared beforehand. Come armed. Not looking like he was inviting a return of the thing, in his back.

He refolded the knife and slid the weapon and its accompanying note in one of his vest’s inside pockets. Sniper grabbed the thermos and left, not wanting to stick around any longer. He had a backpack to finish packing. He wondered how the Spy had even gotten into his room, but figured some things were better left unknown. At least for the time being.

The Sniper headed downstairs to the kitchen to refill his thermos with water. It was getting late, but it was likely dinner was still going on. Then again, it wasn’t exactly difficult to prolong when the hungrier mercs kept asking for more. 

He was still surprised when Medic approached him from behind, and jumped a little. Battlefield reflexes.

“I see zhat you vill not be joining us for dinner, Herr Sniper?” he asked.

“Nah.. Well, maybe Oi’ll grab a bite while Oi can since- HOLY! Yer hands are... erm... bleedin’.” he replied as he turned around.

The Medic chuckled. “Just a bit. I, ah, got between zhe Soldier und his seconds. Vell, his fifzhs, more likely.”

Sniper raised an eyebrow, somewhat concerned. The Medic dismissed him with a wave of his bleeding hand and a click of his tongue. Sniper moved out of the way to let his injured teammate wash the blood off his wounds.

“Shouldn’t ya be in yer own office? Bandage ‘em up, maybe?” Sniper offered with a shrug. The doctor’s quarters weren’t too far off.

Medic responded with an amused look. “Vizh all due respect, Herr Sniper, I am perfectly confident in vhat I am doing. You needn’t vorry about me. Ve all suffer vorse on zhe battlefield.” he said.

Sniper nodded, and decided that was an excellent time to leave. Before the doctor could start talking about his wounds in detail or whatever, he tipped his slouch hat and made his exit.

Sure enough, a few of the others were still gathered around the grills. It was Friday, after all. They had the weekend and Monday off. No reason not to enjoy the long dinner while possible.

The Heavy and Soldier were, as usual, the most enthusiastic eaters. The Demoman had a big appetite at times, too - when he wasn’t passed out in the living room. Pyro and Engineer were cooking together now. They’d brought out the big grill, and it was covered in food. They seemed to be in conversation, though Engie was doing most of the talking.

As if they were anticipating his arrival, Pyro handed Sniper a plate of food. “Thanks, mate.” he said as he took a seat on one of the folding chairs they had lying around.

Soldier was finishing a burger that had to be half the size of his head, in the seat next to him. Curiously, the Scout wasn’t present. He was always at the start-of-the-weekend BBQ dinner, chatting up a storm.

“Where’d Scout run off ta?” Sniper asked out loud, not to anyone in particular. He stabbed a piece of chicken with his fork.

“Mmmrph mmph mm mmrph.” Pyro said.

“Leetle man was here earlier.” Heavy added.

“Hardly ate anythin’ before runnin’ back inside. Left his plate on the chair. That’s when Soldier here pushed the Doc on the ground.” the Engineer said, shooting a pointed, disapproving glare to the offender.

“I was _protecting my dinner_.” Soldier replied defensively.

“Plenty of food to go ‘round. ‘Sides, you know not to get ‘im angry. If he had his bonesaw, well...” Engie said, words trailing off with a sigh. He turned to Sniper. “By the way, is the Doctor okay? His hands were bleedin’ an awful lot. Nothin’ he can’t handle, of course, but Ah’m just wonderin’.”

Sniper nodded. “He was rinsing ‘em off when Oi was comin’ out. Maybe he’ll ask Scout to bandage ‘em up for him if they run into each other.”

The Pyro and Engineer got a good laugh out of that, though Pyro might’ve just been staring at the fire that whole exchange. It was hard to tell with the mask.

“Poor kid. Won’t stand a damn chance.” Engie said.

Sniper finished off his food and got up. “Oi’ll see ya all in a few days.” he said.

Pyro took his plate from him. “Mmrmph mmph.” they said with a wave.

Sniper told the group good night and to have a good weekend before returning to his van. It wasn’t often he socialized with them at dinner, but it wasn’t exactly a bad change of pace, either. There had been worse nights.

He stuffed his thermos into his backpack. It reminded him of the knife in his pocket as he slung the bag over his shoulders. He added his trusty rifle to his load, and grabbed his kukri for good measure. Just in case. After all, who knew what that Spy was up to?


	3. Visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now, things start to get interesting.

The Sniper picked a direction to go and stuck with it. Every time he grabbed his thermos for a sip of water, he thought about the strange letter. When the sounds of dinner faded away, and the RED base was nothing more than a shape in the distance, he decided to set up camp. There was enough nearby scrub to work with for a small campfire.

He had no qualms about sleeping outdoors. Besides his past experiences giving him confidence in the wild, any death would send him and his things back to respawn. As for a campfire left behind, he wasn’t sure. There was more cause to worry about _that_ than his own life as he got the blaze going.

As an afterthought, he used his kukri to fish out a few pieces of charcoal, arranging them in the shape of an arrow pointing back to the general direction of where base was.

The desert might’ve been scorching hot in the afternoon, but the heat would always yield to the night. Sniper looked up. The smoke was beginning to obscure the stars. He preferred the fresh, cool night air and a clear view. So he got up, and started walking again, not looking for anywhere in particular, and not trying to get away. Just walking and thinking.

Suddenly, he stopped. His campfire was still visible in the distance. It wasn’t the best idea to just go and leave it, but he decided that it would be fine for just a little longer.

The Sniper kicked at the red dust at his feet. He sighed, feeling the cool breeze against him, leaning against one of those spires of rock scattered around the landscape. What were they called, again? Hoodoos.

Sniper wasn’t _really_ waiting for anything, and yet he caught himself holding his breath before releasing it again loudly. _Was_ he waiting for anything? He hadn’t encountered either Spy, and he’d sort of been anticipating it. The Sniper had even distanced himself from his campsite. A perfect time for a Spy to find him and speak to him in complete privacy.

Of course, it had been to look at the stars, he’d reasoned. Except he wasn’t even looking up. He was staring at the earth and frowning. He kicked a rock, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and began the short trek back, unasked questions still dancing on his lips. Or, really, thoughts he wouldn’t entertain still whispering in the back of his mind.

The Sniper kneeled, unrolled his sleeping bag to sit on it, and finally shrugged the backpack off of his shoulders.

Without really thinking about it, the Sniper removed the balisong from his pocket, and began toying with it. The cool metal warmed in his hands. He flipped it around again and again, almost obsessively, until it began to feel familiar and he could get it open and closed in a fluid motion. Until his hands could kind of do what the Spy’s could.

The Spy... He hadn’t really given himself a quiet moment to think about the man, but when he did, it was the BLU Spy who came to mind. The two Spies were near identical, yet there was something about the one on the enemy team that intrigued him. Maybe not quite intrigued, but interested him.

The way the man had teased him, even when he was being pinned down helplessly. How his voice had gotten so... how he’d sounded so _seductive_ in the middle of a damn fight. And how he kept looking away. In the heat of the moment, the Sniper had dismissed it as shame more than anything. Now, though, he wondered if it was... bashfulness? No, it couldn’t be. It was true that the very position they were in could be taken the wrong way, but they were enemies!

On a near daily basis, one had killed the other at least once. And yet just remembering their exchange on the floor of the Sniper’s roost made him feel all tingly. It was horribly unpleasant and absolutely delicious at the same time. He shook his head to drive the thoughts away. Surely, he could enjoy at least one weekend without having to worry about anyone but himself.

No such luck. Seemingly materializing out of thin air, the very man he’d been trying to stop thinking about tapped him on the shoulder. The Sniper cursed loudly, whipping around. He hadn’t even heard the Spy approach. It was hard to look threatening on the ground, but he managed as well as he could.

“ _Salut_ , RED Sniper.” the enemy Spy said, arching an eyebrow at the attempted display of ferocity. A cigarette dangled precariously in his mouth, hardly smoked at all. Spy took it and flicked it into the campfire, exhaling a small bit of smoke as he watched the Sniper get up.

“Why’re ya here?” he asked, dusting himself off. “How did ya even find me? Or get inta my damn room earlier?”

A hint of a smile played on the Spy’s lips. “Patience, Sniper.” he said. “All in due time. I cannot say zhat I am surprised you came out ‘ere. You must go camping all zhe time, oui?”

“Yeah... S’nice to get out sometimes.” Sniper said, scratching the back of his head. It was obvious he wasn’t going to get answers out of the Spy until he was ready to provide them.

“I ‘ave a problem, Sniper. I am not sure if my finding you ‘ere will ‘elp me in any way, but I need to know.” Spy said, watching the flames.

“A-a _problem_?” the Sniper asked, incredulous. “And how am Oi supposed to bloody help ya?” He turned to the flickering campfire, as if it was possible to glean a better response from it somehow.

Ignoring the question, the Spy shifted his gaze to the back of the man in front of him. “Last Zhursday. Do you remember?” he asked, the tone of his voice almost gentle.

The Sniper froze. Thursday. Of course he remembered; he'd been thinking about it earlier. It was a little hard to forget their romp up in his nest, when they so rarely even spoke to anyone, much less each other, during their quick, neat kills.

“Yeah.” Sniper said. It came out hoarser than he’d anticipated. He cleared his throat in what he hoped wasn’t a conspicuous manner.

The Spy lifted his hand slightly, tempted to place it on the Sniper’s shoulder. He let it drop. The Sniper turned around to face him. His gaze flicked up to meet the Spy’s, then it went back to the reddish earth.

“I do not understand, Sniper.” Spy said vaguely. He looked a bit distressed. Lost, even. But only for a moment. He was excellent at displaying close to no particular facial expression, and it had become a reflex for him.

“What don’t ya understand?” Sniper asked, rooting around himself for patience in the conversation.

“ _You_. I do not understand you. ‘Ow you managed to remain in my thoughts. Especially after... what ‘appened.” Spy said, clearly exasperated.

“And ya came all the way out here to find me while Oi’m just tryin’ ta camp, ta tell me that Oi confuse ya?” Sniper asked, frowning.

“ _Non_. Not quite.” the Spy said, watching the Sniper carefully now. He paused. Sniper stared at him, still frowning.

“I found you to speak, at first. But I am afraid zhat tonight I must cut my visit short. More zhan zhat, I came ‘ere to do _zhis_.” Spy said.

He stepped up to the Sniper, and pressed his lips to his enemy’s. Sniper tensed in shock, and shut his eyes. His hands clenched at his sides, and just barely felt Spy’s own hands ghost over his waist. When he reopened his eyes, the Spy was gone. He didn’t call out to the Spy who was surely still cloaked nearby, but stood there trying to slow his panting.

A helpless sound slipped out of his throat, and he sat down on his sleeping bag, head in hands. His heart raced. Unspoken words pounded his mind relentlessly.

 _Breathe. Breathe. Stop making that noise. Bloody hell. You’re a grown man. Calm down. These things happen to everyone. Sometimes. Right?_ he thought.

Cloaked, the Spy left the Sniper to his own devices. It had been one hell of a risk to take. He could’ve been slapped, or gutted, or simply shoved away. There was definitely no getting the Sniper out of his mind now, when the taste of the man still lingered on his lips.

There were still other things to worry about, though. He needed to get back to the BLU base to tend to his own problems that did not involve the Sniper, whom he felt just a little guilt in leaving.

 _No matter. Left him wanting more..._ he thought with just the smallest twinge of hope. Even though the Spy told himself he had no use for romance, he couldn’t fully deny his attraction to the Sniper. _I will be over it soon. Always am._

 

Back at his little campsite, the Sniper prodded the fire. He tried not to think about the Spy. To his credit, he really did try. But as the Spy often crept up on him in the middle of battle, he did the same in Sniper’s thoughts.

He sighed in frustration, picking up a pebble and tossing it in the fire. As expected, the flames did not yield, and instead licked at it hungrily, eager to consume.

Sniper could practically feel Spy’s hands on his waist. He smacked his own hands on himself to remove the sensation. One of them landed on a lump in his pocket. Confused, Sniper removed an awkward wad of paper.

Not quite sure why he was tempted to, he gave it a tentative sniff. It smelled like smoke and cologne. Of course. The Spy. How he’d gotten into Sniper’s pocket without him noticing was impressive, even if it probably wasn’t anything special for a Spy.

He carefully unwadded the paper. It had to be a surprisingly big piece to make such a big lump, unless...? As the Sniper freed the paper of its own creases, something fell from its confines.

He picked it up. It was a little paper packet. Wonderful. More questionable things of paper. Sniper studied the paper that had been its wrapping. In the same neat handwriting as before, it read:

_Will I see you again?_

_Perhaps you will be waiting. I find that time passes by more quickly when one has something to occupy it._

The rest of the paper, back and front, was blank. Like last time, it wasn’t signed. Not that it needed to be. The mere scent of it was signature enough.

Sniper opened the paper packet carefully, hoping it wasn’t a malicious trick this time. Of course, the balisong hadn’t been, but - oh shit. The knife! He’d forgotten to return the knife. He fished it out of his inside pocket. Well, if the Spy wanted it back, he’d have no trouble finding Sniper at his campsite. As for the mysterious man’s second gift...

Little brown lumps. Not lumps, no - seeds? Sniper rolled one between his forefinger and thumb. He didn’t recognize them, not that he was an expert on plant seeds or anything. What an unusual present. Sniper supposed that the Spy was expecting him to actually plant and tend to them. It was never a hobby of his, but it couldn’t be hard. As long as he remembered to water them, they’d do just fine. Was gardening what Spy did to pass time? What an interesting hobby.

Sniper could deal with it after the camping trip. He put them back in the packet, and placed the packet in his bag. He’d had a long day, what with the fighting and dinner and Spy, and he wanted to get some rest.

In his sleeping bag, he couldn’t avoid the thoughts of Spy. Just... how he’d kissed him so suddenly. Sniper honestly hadn’t guessed that he’d do that. Talk to him, sure. Cut him with one of his pretty little knives, sure. He didn’t want to think about it, because it was making his heart flutter and _that_ wasn’t going to get anything done. They were still enemies, after all.

Sniper sighed. When the work week started again, Spy would stab him just as he always did. Not only because it would be suspicious if he didn’t, but because damn it, they were _professionals_. That was their job. Not necessarily the getting killed part, but killing. Repeatedly.

He wondered if Spy would hesitate on his next stab. The thought made him smile a bit. It was kind of endearing to imagine. The BLU Spy, professional assassin, unsure of whether or not he really wanted to kill the Sniper for another point on the scoreboard that judged how well the teams destroyed each other.

Then he started to wonder what the Spy looked like under his mask. It made sense that he concealed his face and all, but he still wondered. He wanted to stop thinking about the Spy. He couldn’t help it. It was stupid, though. They’d worked ‘together’ for so long now. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t had interactions before this. Sure, most of those had involved wounds, bleeding, death, and scathing insults, but they were interactions nonetheless.

He sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day. Why was it now that they looked at each other with any sort of interest at all? The kind that didn’t involve a desire to murder, but something else altogether. He didn’t want to think about it but he couldn’t stop, and drifted off into sleep, BLU Spy in his mind, laughing lightly with a cigarette between his lips.


	4. Doctor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's meet a character who isn't lovesick and never will be - the charismatic aro/ace doctor of our fantasies.
> 
> For the curious, Archimedes is not mentioned because he belongs to the RED Medic, not BLU.

A sigh followed by a French curse permeated the otherwise still air in BLU base’s medical office. The Medic had several containers full of organs out. He prodded at a liver, studying it with a disturbing amount of interest through his skewed glasses.

“Zhis is very interesting, Xavier. See vhat it does vhen I poke it?” Medic said enthusiastically, ignoring Spy’s swearing.

The Spy snorted. “I do not watch you when you poke organs, and you know zhat, Isaak.”

“Ja. Ja. But you _should_. I can see zhat zhis vould be a learning experience for you.” Medic replied, grinning.

“All I need to know is where to aim to kill. I zhink I ‘ave enough knowledge of zhe ‘uman body.” Spy said, waving his hand in dismissal good-naturedly.

The two continued their separate work in peace. Medic with the organs, and Spy with a dogeared book in English he’d plucked off the shelf in the living room.

The Spy looked up from his book, which was finally picking up, storywise. The Medic had certainly made an organized mess of the place. It was a wonder that a miscalculated step didn’t knock over at least three jars of organs, of which there were several by his boots.

“Are you going to clean zhat mess, or just keep adding to it?” Spy asked with a raise of his eyebrow.

Without turning back, the Medic laughed the way he rarely did around the team. He knew how big of a mess he could handle, and knew that Spy knew it, too. The question was clearly rhetorical. Nonetheless, he answered.

“Of course I vill, und you vill help.” he said, recording messy notes on a sheet of paper.

“Absolutely not. You made zhat mess on your own. I may be ‘ere, but zhat does not mean I must ‘elp you out.” Spy said, scoffing.

The Medic didn’t look up, but he smiled a bit, still amused. The two had become remarkably close during their time on BLU, and sometimes just lounged together. Neither really spent time with the whole team, preferring quiet - the kind that settled down easily as time passed wordlessly with a friend, as it did right then.

Spy had just finished the book he was reading, which hadn’t been too bad, when Medic removed his gloves and clapped his hands a few times. Doves fluttered down from the eaves above (that he’d pestered the Engineer into building for him). He murmured to them in German. They cooed back.

There had always been a few of the Medic’s many doves that landed on him when they were summoned. They probably recognized his scent or something. It was a bit unnerving, even if he knew they would never hurt him unless ordered to.

“Thales, get out of zhat jar! You vill need a bath later. Parmenides, please stop pecking Xavier’s head. He does not like to be pecked. You _alvays_ do this. Anaxagoras! I vill feed you und zhe ozhers vhen it is lunchtime! How did you even pick zhat lock? I underestimated you.” the Medic yelled.

“I will be fine. ‘Is beak is not sharp. Ow.” the Spy said, smiling slightly. The Medic was the sole individual with control over his doves, and even then, his authority only reached so far.

“You are a good bird, right, Parmenides?” Spy asked tentatively, lifting both his hands to grab the dove on his head before he pecked through his balaclava. But just then, at the cabinet that held the birdseed, Anaxagoras let out a coo and flew back up.

With a coo of his own, Parmenides flapped his wings and took off, returning to the eaves above. The other birds followed soon after. They still cooed and rustled in their nests, but were hidden from view.

The Medic sighed. “I love my birds, but zhey are quite somezhing to deal vith at times.” he said as he picked up containers, holding several in his arms at once and putting them back in their respective homes.

The Spy knew better than to interfere and try to help with Medic’s seemingly random organization method. A dove was perched on his shoulder.

When the Medic was done, he cleaned his table, tossed his bloodied clothes into the bathroom, and washed his hands. 

“Now, Xavier.” he said, in that concerned tone he often used while tending to a stubborn patient.

“What?” Spy asked, frowning.

“You know better zhan to keep secrets from me. You may be good at hiding your emotions from zhe ozhers, but in my office, you cannot do zhe same.” Medic chided gently.

“Do not be so vague.” the Spy grumbled.

“You know vhat I am talking about. Admittedly, I do not. But I do hope you trust me enough to speak to me, Xavier. You don’t talk to anyvone.” Medic said.

“I am not sure I _can_ , Isaak. Nor am I sure zhat you would want to listen or ‘elp me.” Spy said, quieter now.

“Am I not your friend, Xavier?” Medic asked, faint smile on his lips again.

“You are my friend. But zhere is so much to say. I do not trust myself not to pass my limits.” the Spy sighed.

“ _Speak_ to me.” the Medic said, sternness creeping into his voice.

When he didn’t, Medic grabbed the man’s arm and pulled him off the chair. He whispered to the Spy in fierce German. Spy understood just fine, but kept his mouth shut and frowned down at the hand on his arm.

“You are going to wrinkle my suit.” he muttered, pulling it away.

“Come on. Raus, raus.” Medic replied, heading for the door with neat steps. Reluctantly, Spy followed him.

“Lead zhe vay, Xavier.” Medic said as he locked the door to his office behind them.

The Spy flicked open his disguise kit for a cigarette. He’d only smoked one over the past few days, not including the one he had before speaking to Sniper. Besides, that one had gone into the fire as soon as he’d had the willpower to toss it.

Now, he was craving a cigarette. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to _speak_ about anything to the Medic without one, if not a decent amount of alcohol.

As usual, when Medic saw him with the cigarette in his hands, he _tsk_ ed and frowned in disapproval.

“You need to break your habit vizh zhose cigarettes. Zhey are bad for your healzh.” he said.

“We can worry about my ‘ealth later, Isaak.” Spy said, sighing a puff of smoke out of his mouth.

The two were heading for Spy’s smoking room. It was actually the lounge, but Spy had repurposed it for himself. There were more than enough rooms in the base for the mercs anyway, he’d told them when he’d claimed it.

The room was dark when it wasn’t lit; there were no windows due to it being entirely interior. Medic sat down on the couch as Spy quickly looked through every corner and crevice. The constant surveillance the mercs were subjected to did not sit well with the Spy. He ripped a microphone out of the inside of a lamp.

Spy’s own rooms were about as close to actual privacy he got in base. He was always very careful to root out any recording devices. Luckily, the poor interns forced to plant the things in the base during the week were no match for him.

He was usually more careful with them, feeding them lies instead of just breaking them, but he knew the Administrator and her disposable assistants had more than enough cameras and microphones to survey already. Destroying them would have to do.

When he was finally satisfied, he sat down opposite from Medic. The taste of the smoke in his mouth was making him feel a bit nauseous. The Medic frowned and plucked the cigarette from his fingers, pressing it into the ashtray on the table, not taking his gaze off the Spy, who frowned back.

“Speak to me, Xavier.” the Medic said again, expression softening.

Quiet filled the dim, smoky air. Chattering sounded outside, and faded away again. When the silence settled down, the Spy crossed his legs and settled back down into the couch.

“Fine.” he said.

“ _Gut._ ” was the reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote a little extra piece that occurs after this chapter but before the next: <http://archiveofourown.org/works/2267880>
> 
> You don't have to read it to understand the story as a whole, though!


	5. Showtime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A nice and short chapter, like a breath being held.
> 
> Before this chapter, but after the previous, this happens: <http://archiveofourown.org/works/2267880>
> 
> It's canon, though it isn't necessary to understand the story as a whole.

“Doc! Doctor! Medic!” Scout yelled, looking around the main hallway of the BLU base.

“Vhat is it, Scout?” Medic asked, frowning. “I heard you yelling. Are you hurt?”

Scout nearly jumped away; the Medic had appeared so soundlessly.

“Well, no. But I was wondering where you were because you weren’t in your office and you weren’t in your room and I need more of those bandages for my hand because the ones I just had on... I kinda got chloroform on them and stuff.” Scout replied sheepishly.

Medic sighed. He’d had to leave Spy for _this_? Not that he was going to hold it against Scout for calling for him, but still.

“Fine. Come vizh me. I have more rolls in my office.” Medic said, leading the way. Had he more time, he would’ve questioned the runner about the chloroform, but it’d have to be a story for another time.

“Thanks, Doc. I really appreciate it.” Scout said.

“It’s no problem. Just don’t sound like you are in pain if you are looking for me and not in any actual pain. Alright?” Medic asked, unlocking his office.

“Yeah, I can do that. Don’t worry ‘bout me, Doc!” Scout said.

The Medic handed Scout two rolls of gauze.

“Try to use zhem well, Scout.” he said.

“Use ‘em well. Pfft, don’t I always? Thanks and see ya later!” Scout exclaimed, running back outside.

Medic watched him go before leaving his office. The moment he locked the door, Spy appeared next to him, smoke dissipating around his body.

“Isaak.” he said, voice low.

“Come and have dinner. You have to eat sooner or later.” the Medic said.

“I will prepare my own food. I always do.” Spy replied, watching him carefully. He might’ve trusted Medic enough to tell him things nobody else would ever hear, but he still needed to ensure that he was in the clear. That his calculated words went to the right person.

“Vell, zhe team vill not fault you if you join us, Xavier. Everyvone needs to eat.” Medic replied, smiling faintly.

“Some other day, perhaps. I have ozher zhings to tend to.” Spy said. It was a vague statement, but after the conversation they just had, it was obvious what those ‘things’ were.

“Stay safe, zhen.” Medic said, his voice softening just a bit.

Spy nodded, and cloaked again. He waited until the Medic was out of sight before leaving. So maybe Medic would be on his side. Not waiting to deceive him, but an actual friend.  
Throughout his life, the Spy hadn’t exactly been the friendliest, nor the easiest to befriend in terms of circumstance. He decided to go ahead and appreciate what Medic had given him: friendship... and maybe even just a little bit of hope.


	6. Give In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Growing up does not take out the butterflies in your stomach.

The Spy was familiar with the desert. Although not in terms of wilderness survival, he could navigate it with relative ease and without a map to guide him. He thought that the two Snipers could probably do the same, what with their constant camping trips and such.

But where was _his_ Sniper? It was getting late, and Spy hoped he was back at his campsite. Of course, if he’d left it to hunt, finding him would take a bit longer.

Although the Spy preferred the indoors, there was a sense of solitude he enjoyed when he was out in the desert. Especially at night. If he ignored the dust on his suit and the potentially dangerous creatures around, the place was lovely to take a walk through.

He spotted the campfire. Spy made his footsteps lighter. The Sniper was roasting something over the fire. He was sitting on his sleeping bag, and his vest was in a pile next to him.

Spy cloaked. He wasn’t exactly ready to just walk out and present himself. After all, what if the Sniper didn’t feel the same way about him? Spy knew he read people well, but sometimes that man was an enigma to him. Or maybe he was just being paranoid.

The Sniper was muttering to himself. The Spy resisted the urge to chuckle out loud. He supposed that the marksman had a lot of time to himself. Then, as he heard what Sniper was saying, he froze.

“Damn Spy... said he was gonna come back, didn’t he?” Sniper said, inspecting the jackrabbit he was cooking.

Spy smiled to himself as he took a small step forward. He didn’t see the Sniper pause, listening beyond the crackling of the fire.

“I can hear ya.” Sniper whispered into the air, voice soft.

Spy was startled, but uncloaked anyway. He watched the Sniper get up. Of course this time, he wasn’t on the ground, shocked at the arrival of the Spy, just a few steps away...

“So ‘ow are you this evening, RED Sniper.” Spy said smoothly.

The Sniper said nothing, just standing there for a moment as he drank in the sight of the Spy. Under the brim of his hat and past his aviators, the nature of his curious stare shifted. The Spy didn’t notice until Sniper took a single step forward, wrapped a single arm around his waist, pulled him forward, and gave him a rough kiss.

The Spy’s hands clutched the back of Sniper’s shirt and he didn’t let go until Sniper pulled Spy back with his arm, the two of them panting.

With their close proximity, Spy could see Sniper’s half-lidded eyes gazing at him, and it sent a shiver down his spine.

Sniper bridged the gap between them again. Spy clawed Sniper’s back with a gloved hand. He could feel the press of chapped lips, and then a light bite, which nearly drew a moan out of him. Their lips parted, and Spy tasted the Sniper for the first time as the man’s tongue shoved into his mouth. Spy pushed against it, breathless.

When Sniper pulled away again, it was slowly. He still had Spy in his grasp, and he was reluctant to draw back.

“Bloody _hell_ , spook.” Sniper said. His voice was a low growl, and Spy had to resist the urge to rip his shirt off right then. It wasn’t easier to hold back when Sniper ran his tongue over his lip, no doubt still tasting the Spy.

“Ya kiss like the devil.” he murmured as Spy leaned in to bite his neck.

“Did you miss me?” the Spy asked teasingly, breath hot against skin.

“Yeah.” Sniper replied, holding the other man by the waist with both hands.

A pause. “Will ya be back tomorrow?” Sniper asked, a bit shyly.

“Do you want me to come back?” Spy replied, nuzzling at the Sniper’s neck.

His response was hardly audible, and the Spy might’ve missed it altogether had he not been so close.

“Please.”


	7. Encore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Can you get through to me?  
>  This is all new to me  
> Stuck in a place where I can't be found_
> 
> _Should you get through to me  
>  What would you do to me?  
> The world above us can't hear a sound_
> 
> _~General Mumble - Free or Fall_

Sniper sighed softly on his crumpled sleeping bag. The Spy had disappeared again, leaving him with a light kiss on his lips and desire surging through him.

He wasn’t sure what to make of everything that had happened with the Spy. There had been kissing, and whenever it happened, he’d wanted it. Afterwards, it confused him. What was happening between them?

It wasn’t as if he’d ever been in a relationship with a man, not that the two were together, not really. What was he to do? Were the urges just physical? That would make things even more confusing; he didn’t even know how the Spy’s face looked.

None of his previous partners had been anything like him. There’d been that blonde girl with whom he’d held hands and had his first kiss with. She was sweet, but the two had grown apart. There was another girl he didn’t remember well, just the scent of ginger and cinnamon in her hair.

Throughout his teenage years, he’d had a few flings. Until he grew apart from people in general and found solace in the wild. And from that solace, knowledge in murder leading to a job.

“ _Damn_ Spy.” he muttered, tending to the young jackrabbit he’d caught and roasted.

He’d asked the Spy to come back. Perhaps not outright asked, but what he’d said was a blatant invitation. If the Spy came back, what were they going to do then? Sniper still wasn’t sure what he expected from the Spy. The entire situation was still a tangle of thoughts and words in his mind.

He bit into the jackrabbit. It was a little overcooked and the meat was stringy, but otherwise fine. He’d had worse.

More importantly, now there was _definitely_ no way he was going to get the Spy out of his mind. The Spy and his stupid smug grinning and nice blue eyes and pleasant soap smell...

Sniper growled in frustration. He felt as if he should do something, but what? Did the Spy expect him to ask him out? Was that even allowed? The two were on different teams. The two were men. The two of them were professionals.

He didn’t want to deal with it. It was late, and he was losing valuable sleeping time. Not even giving a resigned sigh, for once, the Sniper took his shoes off and climbed into his sleeping bag.

 

Sniper groaned as he was roused from his sleep. He felt as if he’d only been asleep for a few minutes, but the sight of where the moon in the sky said otherwise. If it was still nighttime and he didn’t need to piss, then why did he wake up?

Slowly but surely, he felt the press of a body on him. Not lying against his, but sitting upright on him. A gentle hand put his aviators on for him and he was about to grab the wrist until he saw it was attached to the BLU Spy.

“Why’re ya here?” Sniper asked groggily.

“Because everyone at my base is asleep. Well, except for zhe Medic, but I do not need to worry about ‘im.” Spy said.

“And... why’re ya sittin’ on me?” Sniper said.

“Because this is much better than you on top of me.” Spy replied. He could still remember the cold press of the kukri on his throat.

Sniper smirked in response, propped himself up on an elbow, and grabbed Spy’s tie. The Spy would’ve slapped his hand away and pulled back had Sniper not tugged the tie and kissed him.

Sniper was holding him close. He just watched the Spy for a bit, running his fingers along the side of his masked face.

“How did ya find me?” Sniper asked.

“I come out ‘ere more often zhan you zhink. Zhere are times it is useful to know zhe area surrounding our bases and battlefields.” Spy replied simply.

“Fair enough. How did ya get into my room in the first place?”

Spy hesitated. “It was not my original plan. Yes, I infiltrated your base, but it ‘ad been more out of curiousity zhan zhe intent to ‘arm your team in any way. While I was zhere, well... I found your room and picked zhe lock.”

“Of course ya just picked the - wait, ya infiltrated our base at _night_?” Sniper said in disbelief.

“It was ‘ardly more difficult zhan it is during zhe day, _cher_.” Spy replied, chuckling.

“And ya decided not to do anything terrible.” Sniper said, smiling faintly.

“Well we are not allowed to murder each ozher at night. It would be chaos if we ‘ad free rein.” Spy said.

“That reminds me - ya left yer knife with me.” Sniper said, pulling it out of his pocket and reflexively unfolding it.

Spy resisted the urge to run his hand over his balaclava where the Sniper’s hand had been just a moment earlier, and blinked.

“I did not know zhat you could do zhat.” he said.

“Do what? Oh, the knife? Well Oi, er, took it out a few times to look at it. It’s a pretty thing.” Sniper said.

Spy took it from him gently, conspicuously brushing their hands together. He folded, unfolded, and refolded it with ease.

“Would you like to keep it?” Spy offered, pressing it back into the Sniper’s palm. He tried not to stare at the marksman as he did.

“Ya don’t have ta give me yer knife, spook. Oi wouldn’t mind ya stickin’ it in my back, if Oi knew it was this one.” Sniper said.

That drew a laugh out of the Spy. It was quiet, but it was a real laugh, and it made Sniper smile.

“Please, take it as a token of my affection. I ‘ave other knives I can stab you wizh.” Spy said coyly.

“Was that an innuendo?” Sniper asked without shame, the tone of his voice sending shivers down the Spy’s spine. There were two inches between their faces. Two inches too many.

Spy leaned in, feeling the Sniper’s hot breath on his lips.

“Maybe it was.” he whispered, kissing him again.

The Spy pushed Sniper back down onto his sleeping bag, still straddling him. He knew that they should both probably try to get some rest, what with the coming Monday and all. Even if it was a day off work, the Sniper would need to return to base sooner or later.

Sniper pushed Spy off of his face, rolled the edge of his balaclava up, and set his teeth on the man’s neck.

Spy thought that going back to base could wait.

“Then _stab_ me.” Sniper hissed, sinking his teeth in skin.

Spy decided that going back to base could definitely wait.

“Mmm... Do not tempt me, _cher_.” Spy murmured.

“Hell. Oi didn’t mean ta do that.” Sniper muttered, licking at a drop of blood. “Yer skin must be really delicate.”

“Or your teezh are abnormally sharp. Bite _‘arder_ , for _God’s sake_ , Sniper. _Leave marks_.” Spy replied, a whine creeping into his voice.

Sniper was hesitant, but only for a moment. He readjusted his mouth, and bit again. The Sniper didn’t really want to make Spy bleed with his teeth, and layered some light kisses on top of the wounds before tilting his head to the other side to suck on the untouched skin there.

The Spy removed his gloves with his teeth, and stuffed them in his pockets to run his hands through Sniper’s hair. It was coarse and he was enjoying the feel of it.

Sniper pulled back, resting his head on his sleeping bag and stroking the back of Spy’s neck with a hand.

“Oi need to know, spook, what this is... between us.” Sniper said, nervous.

Spy stroked the Sniper’s face with a fingertip. “I do not know, exactly.” he said.

“Look, Oi... know ya got a lot more experience with this than Oi do. An’ Oi just hope ya got some a’ the answers.” Sniper said.

“Per’aps so, but I would like to see you fill in some of zhe blanks yourself.” Spy said.

“Then how ‘bout ya come visit me sometime? During the week, in my camper.” Sniper offered.

“You would allow me in your van?” Spy asked, biting his lip and feeling a bit foolish for doing so. It was hardly a big deal for him, being asked out, whatever this was.

“Well Oi don’t see why not.” Sniper said.

“As filzhy as it must be, I would love to.” Spy said, smiling faintly.

“My van ain’t filthy! Oi need ta clean it up a bit, but Oi can live in it just fine.” Sniper grumbled.

“Oui. _You_ can, but I ‘ope to see your zhings in order when I visit.” Spy said.

“When?” the Sniper asked.

“‘Ow does Wednesday sound?” Spy said.

“Yeah... yeah Oi can do that. Don’t leave me waitin’ for ya too long.” Sniper said.

Spy started to lift himself off of the Sniper.

“Would I ever, _cher_?” he said, bringing up his left hand. The Spy kissed the Sniper a last time, softly, before cloaking to get up.

Sniper watched him go, the Spy’s blueish silhouette flickering and disappearing altogether. He wondered why the Spy always cloaked before leaving. The two were in the middle of the desert, after all.

An interesting thought came to Sniper’s head. Maybe the Spy just wanted to spare him the sadness of having to watch him go. If that was the case, though it was a charming possibility, it wasn’t entirely effective. As Sniper removed his aviators again to sleep, he still found himself missing the Spy.


	8. Plants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you ever had soil under your nails?

In the morning, he got out of his sleeping bag to pack his things. It was Monday, and he’d need to return to base before the working week began again. The sky was a pale, blue-tinted grey dawn being overtaken by the sun’s warm yellow.

Sniper’s thoughts kept going back to the Spy and last night. He rolled up the sleeping bag hastily, but it ended up too lumpy to strap to the pack. If he could only get the Spy off his mind for a moment, he’d be able to pack his damn things.

Although it had been nice to get out to camp, he wished the Spy could’ve been with him for the trip, too. Maybe then they would’ve gotten to actually talk to each other.

The Sniper wondered if he should eat first, but he had no appetite. The base wasn’t too far, and breakfast would probably be starting soon.

It could be counted on that at least one of the mercs would be up by around sunrise to cook food, work day or not.

Soldier was always up at seven in the morning, and as soon as he was awake and dressed, he’d march up and down the hallway a few times, yelling at everyone to get up. Not everyone did, but generally, the team would be up by noon on a decent weekend.

Sniper finally got his stuff together, sleeping back, weapons and all. He cleaned up his campfire, and started the trek to base, pointed in the right direction by the charcoal lumps forming an arrow that he’d made a few days ago.

The desert was already warming up, and the Sniper quickened his pace. Sunrise was a very peaceful time of day to be awake, even if on the move rather than resting, he thought.

When he finally got back to base, he was greeted by a few of his teammates, awake as expected. Medic looked particularly exhausted, which wasn’t too surprising, as Scout was chattering excitedly next to him.

Somebody had already brewed a pot of coffee, and he poured himself some into his thermos. It only reminded him of Spy, and he wanted to retreat to his camper van. Breakfast. Food. He needed sustenance.

Sniper snatched a sandwich from the fridge. There was a plate of them, filled with meat likely from last night’s barbeque. There was always a Sunday barbeque.

Before anyone could trap him in a long winded conversation, he headed back to his van, and dumped the backpack on the floor.

The Sniper put the food down, remembering the little packet Spy had given to him. Was there even anything he could use as a plant pot? Surely, there was a container lying around, waiting to be filled with dirt.  
An empty pot of coffee beans. He grabbed it, and headed into base.

The REDs housed plenty of plants, both big and small, so there was a little closet filled with gardening tools and such.

It took Sniper two walks around the ground floor to locate it. He was embarrassed with himself; the door had a sign on it, clearly stating ‘ _Shed_ ’, along with a picture of a sapling beneath the text.

He didn’t visit the shed very often, as he didn’t keep plants in his van nor room. Sometimes he had to water and fertilize a few of them (one of the mercs’ many chores), but that was it. Sniper turned the light on.

He looked around for something pointy, and grabbed the first metal tool that seemed fit for the job of creating holes in the bottom of the coffee bean pot. With a lot of swearing, he managed to make a few holes, even if the bottom of the pot looked a bit mangled.

There was a big bag of dirt lying on the floor, clipped shut. Sniper unclipped it, picked up the trowel next to it, and filled the pot with dirt. That would have to be enough.

Sniper got up, turned the light off, and shut the door. That had been simple enough. Wait. Were those... footsteps?

“Oi, watch it!” Sniper exclaimed as Scout turned the corner and nearly crashed into him.

“The hell, man? Why were you in the freakin’ plant closet?” Scout asked.

“None a yer business. _Yer_ the one who almost crashed inta _me_.” Sniper growled.

“Hey, nobody ever uses that stupid closet anyway! You just got in my way!” Scout replied, indignant.

Neither of them noticed Medic exiting from his office just a few metres away.

“I zhought I heard somezhing?” he said coolly.

Sniper nearly jumped, but Scout looked almost _relieved_ , much to his shock.

“Ah. Scout. I’ve been vaiting for you; you’re late for your appointment. _Hereinkommen_.” Medic said, shooing the Scout into his office.

Before he shut the door, he gave a nod to the gawking Sniper, who stood in the hallway before shaking his head and making his way back to his van.

When he was alone again, he pushed the seeds into the dirt, and watered it with the half-full cup of water that had been sitting on the counter.

There was still plenty of time before the evening would begin to set in, and Sniper decided to relax. He could eat dinner in a bit; he was too nervous to face his team. After whatever that was that had happened with the Medic and Scout, and the whole thinking about Spy thing... he needed a good break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to know what happens between this chapter and the next, I've written a bit for that here: <http://archiveofourown.org/works/2267913>
> 
> It's canon and relevant to the story, but not necessary to understand it; it's just a little extra. :)


	9. Housecall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to see Medic in a trenchcoat.
> 
> Also, if you want to know what happens between this chapter and the last, click here: <http://archiveofourown.org/works/2267913>
> 
> It's a little extra piece that's canon but not necessary to understand the story as a whole.

There was a knock on Sniper’s door. He’d been working away at a sandwich and had almost finished. It was a bit early for the Spy to be visiting; the sun had just begun its dip below the horizon, but he wasn’t going to complain.

Sniper opened the door, pretended to check something outside his van, and went back in, shutting the door. The Spy, surely cloaked, would’ve had enough space to get in.

When he turned back, the hairs on the back of his neck rose, and he realized why a split second after snatching his kukri against the wall and slamming into where he hoped the cloaked person was.

He recognized the Spy’s scent; there was a distinct cigarette smell that clung to his clothes. That was what he’d been expecting, but he could smell blood and something like rubbing alcohol.

Sniper pressed the figure against the wall, watching them decloak from his touch. He brought the kukri to his throat, and almost sliced off his head in shock.

“Medic?!” he exclaimed. Why the hell would the BLU Medic be knocking on his door?

“I vould appreciate it if you let go of me, Herr Sniper.” the Medic replied calmly, lips pursed. The expression on his face was disapproving; he reminded Sniper of a schoolteacher.

“Give me one good reason why.” the Sniper snarled, eyes narrowing in distrust.

“I am unarmed, is zhat enough for you? I came all zhe vay from BLU base to RED, unarmed.” Medic replied, lifting his gloved hands to his side. “Besides zhat, I am not in my vork uniform.”

It was true. The Medic was in a dark trenchcoat that resembled his uniform’s coat, along with a waistcoat and dress shirt. He was still wearing blue rubber gloves, which was a little odd, but at least they weren’t splattered with blood.

Sniper relented, releasing the Medic slowly, reluctantly. Weapons weren’t exactly hard to hide in a trenchcoat, and he knew that neither of the Medics were as weak as some of the mercs thought them to be. Once, he’d personally witnessed his own team’s Medic saw through the BLU Spy, laughing maniacally the entire time. It had been quite disturbing for everyone around.

“Why’re ya here?” Sniper asked, keeping his grip on the kukri tight.

“To speak to you. Vhy else vould I have risked my life to cross over to your base?” Medic said, as if it was obvious.

“But... why?” Sniper said, still more than confused.

“Because,” Medic began, lowering his voice. “Zhe Spy on my team has taken a liking to you. Und as his closest friend in zhis merciless business, I must see if he has not simply been blinded by stupidity.”

“Yer riskin’ yer life to see if ya can _trust_ me?” Sniper asked, in disbelief.

“Ja, precisely. Zhat is vhat friends do, don’t zhey?” Medic replied, nodding a bit.

 _No_. Sniper thought. “Yeah. Oi suppose.” Sniper said.

“You can stop eyeing me like I vill turn on you. Tonight, I have no interest in harming you. Alzhough zhings vill not be zhe same in battle tomorrow, for now I can promise you I vill not try to hurt you.” Medic said, sighing.

“Fine. Sit.” Sniper grumbled, gesturing to the nearest seat.

Medic stuck his hand out. For a moment, Sniper didn’t understand what he wanted. He glanced at it, then back up. The Medic raised an eyebrow, but his expression was otherwise neutral. Sniper blinked, and shook it. Medic sat.

“Oi’ve never really had any company. Oi cleaned up the place for Spoi, but it’s still cramped. Sorry.” Sniper said.

Medic almost smiled. “It vill be fine. I just came for a chat, after all.” he said.

“Yeah, well, how do ya even know about... this?” Sniper asked.

“Zhe Spy told me. Like I said, ve are friends.” Medic said.

“Well, wot do ya want from me?” Sniper scratched the back of his head; a habit of his when socializing.

“Sit vizh me, Herr Sniper, und speak to me.” Medic said.

Sniper frowned. Was the Medic seriously going to try telling him what to do? He couldn’t find a good enough reason to refuse, though, and sat down across the little table from him.

They watched each other for a while. Neither one of them spoke. Sniper swallowed, hands on his knees, fingers drumming against them impatiently.

Medic sighed. “You are terrible at speaking.” he said flatly.

The Sniper bristled. “Wot do ya freakin’ want to hear from me? We’re on bloody enemy teams, ‘case ya haven’t noticed.” he snapped.

“I vould be speaking to zhe Spy right now, but from vhat he told me about you, it vas clear zhat you vould benefit more from getting your zhoughts out.” Medic said, undeterred by Sniper’s frustration.

“Oi... ya wanna hear ‘bout my _feelin’s_?” Sniper asked, crossing his arms and leaning back.

“Don’t be so nervous, Herr Sniper. If you are happy, and you keep Spy happy, zhen ve can be on good terms, ja?” Medic said.

“Oi don’t need yer help.” Sniper grumbled, turning to the floor and glaring at it with contempt.

The Medic smiled slightly. “Zhe Medic on your team may be able to keep somevone’s _head_ alive, but I can read people like _books_ , Herr Sniper.”

“Then... then tell me wot Oi need ta do.” Sniper said, meeting his gaze again. He rooted out some confidence. There was no reason to keep denying the Medic if he already knew everything.

“Tell me vhat you feel for zhe Spy.” Medic offered.

Sniper bit back a curse accompanied by a scathing remark. “Oi’m not sure.” he admitted instead.

“Vell he has visited you more zhan vonce, correct? I vould assume you two have _somezhing_ vizh each ozher.” Medic said.

“Maybe... we didn’t say or do much.” Sniper said, pulling the brim of his hat down as his face reddened from the memories.

Medic checked his watch and started to get up. “I vill leave now. Spy vill be here by eight o’clock und you should prepare.”

Sniper’s eyes widened. “Wait! Wait, Doc, don’t go yet. Oi appreciate everything. Really. Is there anythin’ else Oi can do ta... um, prepare?” he asked.

Medic laughed. “Be yourself, Herr Sniper. He _likes_ you. He is alvready offering somezhing precious to him - his time.”

Sniper nodded, and got up to show the man out. Medic gave a little bow, cloaked, and left. Sniper tipped his hat before shutting the door again.

He took a deep breath. There was hardly any reason to be nervous. He’d been on dates before. Sort of. Sniper tried to reassure himself that he would be fine.

Part of why he was nervous, though, was that he actually spoke to the Medic instead of forcing him to leave, even if the conversation was pitifully short. But it shone light on his situation whether or not he’d wanted it to. Sniper took another deep breath as he came to terms with his feelings: He _liked_ the Spy, and there was no denying it now.


	10. Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sniper, if you order any keys from that catalogue, you'd better not unbox anything with them. That would be silly.

Sniper was flipping through a Mann Co. catalogue, lost in thought. He couldn’t get himself back into the stupid novel after the Medic left, but at least browsing the new stock wasn’t too bad of a pastime. At least he’d prepared for his little meeting, as the Medic had told him to.

There was a soft but solid knock on the door. He started, nearly spilling water all over the pages. Sniper patted down his shirt, hoping that he looked presentable enough.

He flung the door open, and was greeted by a whiff of faint but familiar cigarette smell. As soon as Sniper shut the door, the Spy decloaked.

Spy was surprised when Sniper walked up to him, slid a hand up his cheek, and kissed him. He relaxed into the Sniper, and pulled away.

“Sit.” Sniper said, trying not to smile like a little kid in a candy store and failing.

Spy took the seat opposite to Sniper’s magazine-and-drink setup. The Sniper set down another cup of water, and sat.

As soon as he brought his hand to the catalogue to put it away, Spy took it in both of his and kissed the back of it.

“ _Cher_.” he murmured. When he looked up, Sniper nearly leaped; his eyes were such a lovely pale blue. Freezing him to the spot with their half-lidded, wistful gaze.

“Spoi, Oi-” Sniper began, but he stopped himself.

“Oui?” Spy prompted, so gently, in such a way that led Sniper to believing that there was no way the Frenchman couldn’t hear his heart pounding.

“Oi want ta know why it is... that Oi feel this way.” he said. And with that, all of the confusion and feeling _lost_ rushed back to him.

Spy chuckled, not in an unkind way. “One who loves must accept zhat zhey cannot always understand it, _mon loup_.”

Sniper blinked, taken aback. _One who loves_. Was... was the Spy implying that he was in love with the Sniper? Or the other way around?

The Spy looked as if he was going to say something else, but he didn’t. Sniper steeled himself in anticipation.

“Do you have more wa-” Spy was cut off.

“Will ya go out with me?” Sniper blurted, face red. He realized that Spy was just going to ask for water, albeit quietly, not say something alarming. He covered his mouth with a hand, resisting the intense urge to groan in frustration.

Spy said nothing; watching the Sniper carefully as he so often did. He let the words sink in for a moment and closed his eyes. But only for a moment, because the man across the table had asked a question and was waiting for an answer.

“Oui.” Spy replied, voice getting soft again. He met the Sniper’s nervous gaze, genuine warmth in his smile.

Sniper exhaled ridiculously loudly. He’d been holding his breath the whole time.

“Really?” he asked, a hopeful, almost childish grin on his face.

“Really.” Spy replied, taking the Australian’s hand again.

“Oi wasn’t sure about all this but... Oi thought maybe Oi could give it a go.” Sniper said, biting his lip.

“I ‘ave been ‘oping to get over you. I zhought zhat you were just a silly infatuation, but I could not get you off of my mind. I cannot deny zhis, cher; you make me ‘appy. You even planted zhe seeds, it seems.” Spy said, stroking Sniper’s hand and looking at the coffee bean pot.

Wordlessly, Sniper pulled the Spy in by the wrist, and kissed him, leaning over the table, heart aflutter.

“'Old me.” the Spy gasped. His breath was literally as sweet as candy in the Sniper’s mouth. He pulled the Spy back in to taste him.

Spy held back a moan. Sniper decided that Spy had definitely eaten some candy earlier. He pictured him licking a lollipop and had to push the thought away before it grew into a problem.

The Spy pulled away, walked over to the other side of the table where the Sniper was sitting, and pulled him off the seat by the collar.

“Sniper.” Spy said. It came out as a needy purr.

Sniper nearly pounced him right then. He growled, grabbing the Spy’s hip and rolling up the edge of his balaclava to bite him again.

“Holy hell.” he said. The signs of their last little get-together still showed on the Spy’s skin. Bruises and signs of the Sniper’s sharp teeth.

“Aren’t ya gonna have yer Medic patch ya up?” Sniper asked.

“ _Non_. Zhe marks are like... love bites.” Spy replied. Sniper was finding the desire to pounce a lot harder to resist now.

“Don’t they hurt?” Sniper murmured, his lips just brushing against the abused skin.

“A bit.” Spy said, looking away. Of course, his partner was currently occupied, and didn’t notice. He did notice the shift in Spy’s voice, though.

“Ya make it sound like they hurt.” Sniper said, kissing lightly.

“No, no, it is not zhat.” Spy replied, his fingers curling on Sniper’s back.

“Then what? Yer mask must rub against ‘em all the time.” the Sniper said.

“It does not matter; I enjoy it.” Spy said tersely.

For a moment, Sniper didn’t reply. But Spy’s blush worsened tenfold when he felt the light puff of a satisfied laugh against his neck.

“Do... do ya think ya can sleep with me sometime?” Sniper asked, his tone gentle now.

“Oui, I would love to.” Spy said. He felt the Sniper nuzzle at him a bit, and smiled again.

Sniper kissed the Spy’s collarbone, then worked his way back up to his neck, his cheek, his lips, still sweet. He pulled away, holding the Spy with both hands on his waist.

“The name’s Lawrence.” he said. “Nice ta meet ya, Spoi.”

The Spy smiled. “Please, call me Xavier.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! The end of my first Sniperspy fanfiction. I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope you look forward to what I'll be publishing in the future. Thank you!


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